


Waking Up In The Islands

by cantthinkofausername_B_Pike



Series: Carry On Countdown 2017 [7]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Carry On Countdown, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, my favorite trope(s), the OCs ship them so hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantthinkofausername_B_Pike/pseuds/cantthinkofausername_B_Pike
Summary: Baz is excited for the class trip to Paris. That is, until he meets his irritating new roommates and has to share a bed with Simon.





	Waking Up In The Islands

**Author's Note:**

> Carry On Countdown Day 7! Barely got this in on time. Title from Cool by Troye Sivan. I realized halfway through writing this that I accidentally used two of my favorite tropes (the bed-sharing, which was the point, and the irritating OCs that all think they're dating, which was an accident).

What did I ever do to deserve this?

When Miss Possibelf first announced the trip, it seemed like a great idea. All the eighth years would spend the week in Paris, supposedly to perfect our French and immerse ourselves in French culture. In reality, it was going to be a week spent shuttling between Paris’s tourist attractions. I’d never been to France before, so I was excited. 

When we arrived at our hotel, I was assigned to room with Snow (no surprise there, he’s my roommate) and two other guys I vaguely recognized from class. I don’t think I’d ever spoken to them, probably because they looked incredibly uninteresting. One of them (I think his name was Eric?) was wearing name brand sunglasses. Why couldn’t I have gotten a room with Dev and Niall?

But that was fine, because this was going to be the best week of eighth year, and nothing, not even ridiculous roommates and long lines of tourists, could prevent that. Right?

Wrong.

When I stepped inside the hotel room, the first thing I noticed was the beds. More accurately, the number of beds. The room contained two queen beds and a pull-out couch. Which meant two of us would have to share. Great.

I rushed to claim a bed for myself. As soon as I put my things down, though, I noticed Eric (I don’t particularly care if that is his name, that’s what I’m calling him) had claimed the other bed and the other guy, who might’ve been Devon, had claimed the couch. Which left me sharing with Snow. Which was simply not happening.

Now, you might think I’d be delighted to have to share a bed with the person I’m secretly in love with. You would be wrong. I am not that creepy. Yes, I will admit to watching him sleep, but this is on a whole different level.

“Fuck no,” I say, raising an eyebrow at Eric and Devon. “You two are sharing.”

They shared an amused glance. “Nope,” Eric said. “Snow isn’t here to claim a bed, so he gets to share. With you.”

Where was Snow, anyway? I shouldn’t care, but I’m slightly worried. We only just arrived, and he’s already missing.

“I am not sharing a bed with Snow,” I repeated.

Devon had the nerve to laugh. “Afraid to out your secret relationship?”

Of course, Snow chose that moment to burst through the door, which leaves me in my present situation. Extremely confused, embarrassed, and dreading the next week. I still haven’t figured out a way to ensure I don’t have to share a bed with anyone.

“Baz, you’re in a secret relationship?” Simon asks. 

I sigh. He’s such an idiot. “No.”

His brow wrinkles in confusion. “Didn’t Devon just say…”

“It was a _joke_ , Snow.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eric interjects, chucking.

Devon raises his eyebrows suggestively. “Looking forward to sharing a bed with Baz all week, Simon?”

“They do that anyway,” Eric says, and they both double over with laughter.

I’m blushing to the tips of my ears and hoping that somehow Snow is clueless enough to not pick up on what they’re not-so-subtly implying. Luckily, he just looks to me, points to the opposite side of the bed, and asks “So I’m putting my stuff here?”

I glare at Eric and Devon before replying. “Seems like it.”

Can this trip get any worse?

 

***

 

We eat dinner at a restaurant that looks like it used to be posh and is still putting on a fairly convincing act. The floor creaks and the frames on the paintings are dirty, which is a dead giveaway to someone who’s grown up around money. Even still, it’s nice. The actual food isn’t that great, but I’m sure this was the only affordable place Watford could find near the hotel. After all, this is Paris.

I find myself sitting with Eric and Devon. Eric has exchanged his ridiculous sunglasses for an even more ridiculous, also name-brand, jacket. His hair is gelled in an extravagant fashion, and he looks like a poor imitation of a photo out of a fashion magazine. Devon’s hair, which might have once been brown but is now electric blue, covers half his face. He wears huge glasses and a very hipster-esque flannel. I now remember why I’d never spoken to them before today.

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight,” I say.

They laugh. Why must they be so immature?

“I am not dating Simon Snow.”

“For real?” Devon asks suspiciously.

“Yes.” I roll my eyes.

“This isn’t just a part of the secret-relationship agreement, is it?”

“I am not in any relationship, secret or otherwise, with Snow.”

Devon looks like a little kid who’s just been told he isn’t getting a puppy for Christmas. “But you two are my OTP!”

“Bro, that doesn’t make it real,” Eric says sadly. “But how do you explain all the staring from across the classroom?”

“And how he comes to _every single one_ of your football games?”

“And -”

I cut them off before they can go any further. “It’s not real. End of subject. What I came over here to ask was, please, stop bringing it up?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eric says. “Sorry, dude. Guess we took that too far.”

“Sorry, man. Won’t happen again. I still ship you two, though.”

I roll my eyes and move tables to sit with Dev and Niall. They won’t ask embarrassing questions. If they did, they wouldn’t be very good minions.

 

***

 

When we return from dinner, we’re all exhausted from the day’s journey. I personally am ready to spend the next two days asleep, except I can’t. Not only because we’re seeing the Louvre tomorrow, which I’ve always wanted to see (it’s fascinating architecturally, historically, and culturally), but because Simon Snow is already asleep. In the bed we’re sharing.

Snow has spread across the bed, somehow managing to take up the entire mattress. That means he can’t really be sleeping, as he sleeps curled up in a knot. Not that he knows I know that. If he ever figured out I’ve watched him sleep, I would die of embarrassment. At the very least, I’d change schools and never be heard from again.

But back to the point at hand: Snow is deliberately occupying as much space as he can, just to be an asshole. Delightful.

“Snow.” I throw my pillow at him. It bounces off and lands on the floor. “Budge over.”

“Mmph.”

“I have to sleep here too, you know.”

He cracks his eyes open to glare at me, and I’d think he really had been asleep if I didn’t know better. “Do you _have_ to?”

I flip him off.

“Fine, fine,” he mumbles, retreating onto the far side of the bed.

Eric and Devon are intently watching us, but as soon as I glance at them, they studiously pretend they had never been looking. “Don’t even _think_ about it,” I mouth to them.

I cautiously crawl into the bed, making sure to stay as far away from Snow as possible. Which wasn’t very far. Shit. I’m in an uncomfortable position, but I don’t roll over, because that would put me closer to Snow. I lie there for hours before I finally fall asleep out of pure exhaustion.

 

***

 

I’m warm, like I’m lying in the sun on a spring day. It feels nice. I’m still mostly sleeping, so I don’t question it. The longer I lay there though, the more I notice the warmth is coming from a person. A person who is _right behind me_.

I go rigid. Simon Snow is touching me. _Simon Snow is cuddling with me_. I’m terrified. (I never want this to end.)

How did this happen? I’m still laying on the edge of the bed, so I didn’t move while I slept. Which means – which means Snow invaded my side of the bed. (Which means that Snow moved to be near me.) (Shut up, me. No, it doesn’t.)

I hear a low whistle coming from the other bed. “Not happening, he says. Yeah right.”

A quiet laugh. A pause. “You know, I think he might have been telling the truth.”

“What, they got together last night when we weren’t looking?” A snort of disbelief.

“Nah. You should see his face. He’s bright red, man.”

Quiet footsteps. “Damn.”

“See, I don’t think they’re together. I think he _wishes_ they were, though.”

“Probably why he got so touchy about it last night.”

“ _Exactly_.”

I hate that they’re right. I wish they’d stop gossiping about me when I’m right in front of them. I would get up and make them stop, except that would involve having to leave Snow’s arms, and this situation isn’t likely to repeat itself. So I keep pretending to sleep so I don’t have to move, and so I can imagine Snow latched on to me in his sleep because he genuinely wanted to hold me.

I can tell when Snow wakes up, because he jumps away from me so fast, he practically flies. He’d pressed himself closer to me, still asleep, and then I had ruined everything by letting out an involuntary little sigh. Why do I have to be so hopeless?

 

***

 

I spend the rest of the day caught up in a daydream where Snow and I are actually together. The class takes its promised visit to the Louvre, and I imagine walking through the galleries holding Snow’s hand and making a joke about him being one of the masterpieces. We walk to the Eiffel Tower, and I wish I was in a cheesy romcom so I could kiss Snow with swelling orchestral music in the background. We’re shuttled on a long tour of nearly every attraction within walking distance, and every fiber of my being is filled with _want_. We’re in the most romantic place in the world, and all it does is reinforce the fact that I’m alone.

Snow hasn’t so much as looked in my direction since he woke up spooning me, and I can’t say I blame him. It hurts, though. Before, he was always watching me. Even though it was only ‘to stop me from plotting’, I’d grown used to his eyes on me. Now, they are gone, and he’s spent all day whispering with Bunce. Of course, I’m wallowing in self-pity, so I guess I don’t have any room to judge. I pretend to ignore it, but at least when Snow had his eyes on me, I could imagine he was looking at me for the same reasons I look at him.

 

***

 

And to think I missed Snow watching me. It’s almost as though he feels the need to make up for all the staring he missed yesterday by doing twice as much today. (I don’t mind.)

Last night had, if possible, been even more awkward than the first. Both Snow and I fell asleep with our backs to each other, trying to take up as little space on the bed as possible. But when I woke up, Snow’s head was on my chest and his arm was thrown over me. When I tried to climb out of bed, which was difficult as he was partially on top of me, he made a soft little noise of protest and held me a little tighter. He was just so adorable that I resolved to pretend to sleep until Snow woke up, just so I wouldn’t disturb him.

Of course, I had forgotten about Eric and Devon.

“Do you _see_ this?” One of them whispered.

“How could I not?” A whisper came from the other side of the room.

“No – he’s _smiling_.”

I was most assuredly not smiling. (Okay, maybe a little bit.)

Footsteps. “He’s so _gone_ for him.”

“It’s kind of pathetic, really.”

“They’re idiots.” 

“Yeah.”

Abandoning the pretense of sleep, I flipped them off and got out of bed. I didn’t have to shake Snow off me, because nearly as soon as I started to move, he opened his eyes and flew to the other side of the bed.

For the rest of the day, I could feel the weight of Snow’s eyes on me. Everywhere they rested, my skin tingled like I’d been shocked. I could only concentrate on half of what the class was doing, I was so distracted. This kind of watching felt different than it had before, though I don’t know what had changed. Before, he had narrowed his eyes when I caught him. Today, he flushes and looks away. What is happening?

When we return to our room after dinner, I corner Eric while Simon is in the bathroom.

“I need you two to step out for a few minutes,” I say, coldly and evenly.

“Sure, man. Why?”

I smile thinly. “It’s really none of your business, is it?”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Whatever. Forget I asked.” He drags Devon, who is intently reading something on his phone, out of the room.

Simon walks out of the bathroom. “Where’d they go?”

“Out.”

“Don’t we have to be in our rooms? Are they going to get in trouble?”

He’s incredibly frustrating. I have no idea how to begin this conversation, and he is not helping. “I need to talk to you.”

“But they..."

“Are outside because I asked them to be.” We’re facing each other on opposite sides of the bed, and I make eye contact. “Why have you been staring at me all day?”

Snow’s eyes dart away from mine. “I haven’t.”

“I see you, Snow. I’m not blind, you know.”

“Got to make sure you aren’t plotting.” He’s still looking anywhere but at me.

I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

The silence is so thick it feels almost tangible. “Becauseyoulookedreallygoodtoday,” Snow mumbles.

My jaw drops. “What?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to make things weird. Weirder than they already are.”

“Too late,” I say. “What did you say?” I’m hanging on his every word, and my first instinct is to not let it show. But he needs to know how important this is to me, and I don’t think I’m capable of saying it.

“I said,” he takes a deep breath, “that you looked really good today.” He looks like he wants to sink through the floor and disappear.

“You _like_ me?” I can’t believe it. I want to.

He’s speaking quietly, but I can hear the hurt and anger in his voice. “You don’t have to make fun of me. Can’t you just pretend I never said that?”

“No, it’s just that – Shit. I like you too.”

Cautiously, he raises his eyes to meet mine. “You do?”

“Yeah, since,” _Since forever._ “Yes.” We stand in tense silence for a second that feels more like an hour. “What do we do now?”

Snow walks purposefully to me. “I have,” he tilts his head to look me in the eyes. His eyes are filled with a hungry desire that I’m sure is reflected in mine. “Been thinking about this,” he runs his fingers through my hair and tangles them there, “all day.” He kisses me.

For a second, I’m frozen, as though moving will make him leave. It’s only a second though, because then I’m kissing him back. I’m kissing Simon Snow, and I feel light enough to fly. At first, the kiss is hesitant, neither of us sure we won’t wake up from this dream. Because I’ve dreamed about this more times than I can count. I’m not sure who deepens the kiss, but we both want more of each other and everywhere is tongues and teeth and _Simon_. 

“Damn, did he really kick us out just to make out with his boyfriend?” Eric’s voice cuts through the haze in my mind. Why is _he_ here?

“I told you so,” Devon says.

I open my eyes to see Devon and Eric standing in the open doorway wearing twin expressions of shock and delight. Snow and I glare at them.

“Some privacy, please?” I grit out.

“You just had five minutes of privacy, dude. Also, Miss Possibelf almost gave us detention for being out after curfew. So, sorry, but no.”

I sigh. I’m still completely entangled with Snow, and I make no move to change this. My hair is a wreck, and I’m sure the rest of me isn’t much better. 

“I hate them,” I groan.

“Just wait. In two more days, we’ll be back at school, with _our_ room,” he whispers.

I grin. “Are you implying something, Snow?”

He nips at my ear. “Maybe.”

I smirk and kiss him again.


End file.
